


Ends With You

by JetnessAffliction



Category: Gundam 00
Genre: Angst, Drunk Sex, Frottage, Incest, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, PWP, RIP RED COUCH, Sibling Incest, Twincest, dead dove do not eat, gundam 00 - Freeform, gundam 00 kinkmeme, kinkmeme transplant, reversal, switch hitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetnessAffliction/pseuds/JetnessAffliction
Summary: Neil is a good brother who tucks Lyle in, one last time.Lockon Stratos x2. Dylandy twincest. Originally posted April 4, 2008 in the infamous Gundam 00 Kinkmeme (pours one out) just after season 1 ended and the long wait between season 2. OH BOY THAT WAS  WILD TIME. Any way, spoilers for up to the end of Gundam 00 season 1. This is YE OLDE WORK re-archiving on  March 3, 2020, in honor of both Dylandy boy's birthday, and #SpaceTwinkTuesday on twitter. Cheers.  *disclaimer, not really indicative of my recent writing since this is more than 10 years ago, but ask the ancients- frottage is timeless.
Relationships: Lyle Dylandy/Neil Dylandy, Neil Dylandy/Lyle Dylandy
Kudos: 2





	Ends With You

Tonight was in no sense the end of their world, Neil repeated this to himself sternly. The words were a mantra that he'd stop using as soon as he arrived in space with his new name, new family and new purpose in life. But each time he clinked his bottle against his brother's --between their rowdy reminiscing and chiding the older ladies sitting at the bar next to them for being unable to tell them apart-- he heard the lonely countdown; the steady and stinging chime that meant an end was approaching. As soon as Lyle had had enough and was safely passed out for the night, he would leave. It would be simple, inexplicable, and downright bastardly of him to disappear without warning. But it was necessary, it was for the best, and it was in no sense the end of their world. 

"I don't even know why we're celebrating ladies, but you're always welcome to celebrate with us!" Lyle boomed for the third time that night, his words slurring through smiling lips, halfway gone. The ladies giggled in a jarring, matronly way and fawned over his brother's hair, the color of his eyes, at how adorable the two of them were, standing and smiling together, even leaning sideways over the bar in the same pose, maybe how they would dance the same way? Well, c'mon now, who could blame the ladies for mixing them up. Even the bartender who practically minded them since boyhood was unsure sometimes.

Neil laughed as loud as his brother, chugged, laughed again. "It's not a celebration unless we actually start drinking to something, am I right?” He winked at the youngest lady, the bottle in his hand nearly-empty and loose in his fingers. He'd had enough, but not quite enough to drown that sinking feeling. He smiled again.

“To the night!”

“To the first day of spring!”

“FUCKING SEVEN TO FIVE CHAMPIONSHIP HISTORYYY!”

“To the armistice!”

“Fuck the amis--”

“To hearth and home!” Lyle chimed in, suddenly catching up with the ruckus. “No, no-- To my good brother here,” Lyle threw a bony right arm around Neil's shoulders and yanked their bodies close, “for serving you all a round and picking up my old tab with his new job!”

“The fuck are you on about?!” Neil laughed to cover the unease. That simple joke made it clear that yes, Lyle had some idea where all the money was suddenly coming from. He swung his free arm around his brother in a mimic of the previous action. Except for their clothes and a few centimeters here and there, they were a symmetrical sight. He wanted to emphasize it, even if only in his mind, the memory that they just  _ were _ . “What charity are you signing me up for?” He kept laughing. “What's this about a new job?”

“Just drink up, you sneaky bastard.” Lyle shot him a strange look- a mixture of anger, pleading, and and very faintly  _ knowing _ . It was the ghostly presence of an abandoned child that flashed angry green eyes at his only family, but Lyle had already become a man now, had steeled his true feelings for other purposes. Although it only lasted a second and Neil couldn't be too sure because Lyle continued on, “No one's gotta ask questions, it's a celebration!” He laughed loudly and his eyes broke away, skipping over the faces of the others around them instead, shining.

They held their bottles up high with the rest of the bar flies, downed them, and carried on exactly as if the end of the world was too far in the future to bat an eye at. In a week, they'd have to go pick up some of their old man's favorite whiskey and go together to lay it down with lilies for Ma and Amy. In the fridge there were leftover vegetables that had to be eaten, along with some fruit and milk that shouldn't go to waste. Trash pickup tomorrow. There were sweetheart letters to return to sender, taxes to dodge, car payments to negotiate. There was rent at the end of the month. There was that movie coming out tomorrow night. The two Dylandy brothers drank, laughed and joked as if they were still schoolboys, as they would never know the meaning of true loneliness. They were there in the moment, and it was in no sense the end of their world.

* * *

* * *

Neil lead the way as they slumped together in the small tenement toward an even smaller bed. He kicked off his boots and peeled off his brother's, still chuckling at how careless Lyle was-- almost “taken home” by one of those dolled-up Aunts. It'd be the last time tucking in his helpless brother, if only he'd stop trying to pull at him and would just walk straight for a few more steps. "No, to the left, idiot. Watch out for the table". Yup, mmhm, Lyle was right, He'd be nowhere if it wasn't for his dear ol' brother Neil, his last link to this city full of wankers and this fucked up country and this even more fucked up and empty worl-

“Lyle--!?” 

Instead of letting his brother slide down to the bed, Neil felt strong arms encircle his whole torso, a sudden hot breath over his heart and a muffled sound yelled against it as if it were meant to pierce through. Their limbs tangled and shuffled in the same way as the blankets. He was pulled, and gravity took over. They tumbled. There was a desperate groan. Leverage and pressure. A gasp of surprise. A dizzying blur of shadows. The springs echoed off the thin walls with their creaking and the bed shook beneath them as if it was a plank of wood on water and it reminded him ever since  _ then _ they only had each other to stay afloat. Neil was sprawled on his back and Lyle had the entire weight of his body sprawled on top of him, forcing them both into another familiar, symmetrical image. Hair that was the same color as his hung down in a curtain over Neil's face, blocked the rest of the room. Eyes that had the same weariness as his stared back at him, locked his own. They even gasped in the same air between their closely aligned mouths in unison.

When they began kissing -like most times- Neil couldn't tell who started it. This wasn't the usual drunken, senseless playing around with each other after a night of same'ol same'ol, was it? Everything was still so hazy. His reason was dulled and in return his senses overwhelmed him. He didn't know what it was this time but the sinking feeling was finally fading away and that heat-- the fuckitall feeling of lust and no regret-- was building up inside him, spilling over from the other body. Was that his brother's ragged breaths sharpening whenever their tongues slid against each other? Was that his own voice moaning in pleasure? Fuck, it didn't matter. Everything else that did overwhelmed him. Lyle. Them. The breaths, the moans, the shuffling of clothes and clicking of metal belt buckles and short buzz of unzipping. The sudden, warm hand kneading the skin up and down his hard length, the sense of closure as his own hand wrapped around his brother's, mimicking. The breaths and moans again. Louder. Longer and heavier and _ oh god _ whatever they were doing this time felt so perfect but still - _ fuck- _ it wasn't enough. What? What do you want this time? He pumped the cock in his fist without mercy, precum slicking his palm. Another moan. He felt the sensation himself and was winded.

Desperate fingers clawed at the waistband of Neil's jeans and tried to roll the fabric down his legs. Neil lifted his hips up and off the bed to accommodate, accidentally pressing their lengths together. It was brief. It was electrifying, It was fantastic, fuck-- was  _ that  _ what he...? Neil pushed and pulled and scrunched his brother's slacks down and they both separated for a moment to kick off the articles of clothing around their ankles. They were about to resume, about to fall back into the same position but Neil couldn't help himself-- he yanked his brother close by the shirt collar, clamped his mouth down, jabbed his tongue in angrily. This -the sudden rush and high he got from trading off- would never be explained. Neil let him go and one of them whined. Or maybe both at the same time and at the same pitch. There was a sudden moment of clarity and Neil knew that wasn't his gasping he heard, but it was his arm that pushed down this time, his body laid over the other, pressing and rubbing every inch of exposed skin under it. Then it was indecipherable again. The breaths, the moans. The slickness as the underside of their cocks slid together, fast and rough from the first moment they touched. There was no hesitation. They both knew what they wanted and how fast to go against each other and where to grope their hands over until fingers entwined on both sides of their bodies. There was no loneliness, no cold, isolated feeling of existing as an inconsequential speck in the vast and senseless universe. There were only breaths, moans, and climax approaching like a crashing wave. It came, and they held onto each other to stay afloat.

* * *

* * *

“Where... are you going...?” Lyle asked after the wave receded, tired and sleepy. Also nervous, but fighting to not show it.

Neil sat up, knocked the back of his hand against his brother's cleaned-off chest and used what was left of the same tissue to wipe himself off. “To the shitter. Where else?” He got up off the bed, grabbed one of the thin blankets off the floor and tossed it over his exposed brother who had finally fallen asleep. There, now he was tucked in. The spoiled brat. He hadn't even planned on giving Lyle a goodbye kiss.

But when he glanced back at the peaceful, sleeping face, Neil was helpless to resist the urge. He felt if he didn't, Lyle would hate him even more. It was quick. Chaste, compared to what they had just done. He inhaled the scent of their hair, their skin, their warmth and it burned a hole in his lungs. Close and deep, over his heart.

Neil Dylandy pulled on his favorite pair of jeans, slipped on his boots, grabbed his vest off the back of the couch, and repeated the mantra as he shut the door behind him. No, it was in no sense the end of their world. Because if Lockon Stratos could succeed, it would be the beginning.

* * *  
  


* * *

[Epilogue]

* * *  
  


* * *

It was an ungodly time of night, and Lyle Dylandy was restless without good reason, sprawled out in the memorial park and staring out at the stars. He couldn't shake off the unnameable, sinking feeling and he'd since stopped using alcohol to try. It never worked anyway. There were no streaks of shooting stars to watch for, no changes in position of those faraway, glowing lights. What should have been a normal, comforting sight suddenly provoked the memory and the loneliness. All those balls of glowing wonder grouped together in clusters and binary orbits reminded him of--

Wait.

No, that wasn't a streak of green that suddenly shot off a tangent toward the asteroid mine. It was his imagination, his need to see something that was reminiscent of uniqueness, individuality, singularity in space-- perhaps a black hole strong enough to swallow itself.

He didn't see it again, but he felt it. The loneliness. The cold isolated feeling of existing as a tiny, inconsequential speck in the vast and senseless universe.

“Neil....” He whispered to the phantom singularity. This – the sudden need to grab onto something that wasn't there, that hadn't been there for years now and should be forgotten-- it would never be explained. It was the ground vaporized underneath him, it was disorienting, it was shattering, and he didn't know but he understood. There, in the finely maintained and short grass of the memorial park, there as nothing to grab a hold of to stay afloat. He was drowning.

Suddenly the lights that speckled the blackness-- the brilliant single ones and faint binary ones all together-- blurred and melded into quivering grayness until he shut his eyes and felt the cold wind sting his face, drying it. Then there was just blackness.

**Author's Note:**

> Original kinkmeme (unedited) fill with prompt and comment: https://kinkmeme.livejournal.com/3057.html?thread=440561


End file.
